TheBanyanTree: Sermon to Self

[Maria Gibson]

I prepared for my role in church this morning, being the liturgist, as
usual.  Read the scripture first; today was Luke chapter 15, verses
11-24.  Hm, the story of the prodigal son, a well loved and well known
parable.  I've read this before, in fact, I've read it as the liturgist
in this same church.  Funny, that's never before happened, getting a
piece of scripture that I've been previously assigned.  Ok, so I read
the scripture and then have to write a prayer of praise and adoration
that seems to fit the scripture and the theme of the sermon either John
or Owen, the pastors, will be giving.

I find the writing of this prayer to be the most difficult of the
liturgist's tasks.  It is a prayer of praise and adoration, not to be
mistaken with a prayer of thanksgiving.  In our training Owen said a
little thanks thrown can't really be a bad thing...a great pastor he is,
funny and so down to earth, but the point is that this is the beginning
of the worship service which is begun with praise even before thanks.  A
small point of great magnitude.

I scratched and I scritched.  I wrote lines and didn't like them, I
tried to keep writing even if it wasn't what I wanted just to get
something down with which to get the process rolling.  Spiritually, I
was sweating.  At times like these I really dislike the mechanics of
writing but, hey, Sunday morning was coming whether I was prepared or
not so I pressed on.  Somehow, after beginning this prayer in about five
different places I began to take lines from the middle of scratched out
parts, I placed them and paired them with lines from the ends of other
discarded thoughts and ended up with something I was happy with.  Whew,
finally.  Back to the preparation, I read the scripture again.

And that is when it happened.

I've experienced it only a few times but never with such a rocking
force.  I read the same thing; same passage, same Bible version but saw
something totally different than any other time.  I've previously
identified with that prodigal son; we're all trying to find our way
back, and I've identified with his brother; who hasn't had reasons to be
righteous?  I just never had such a clear view of the father before.  I
find that these days, these days of the past several years, have been
very trying and difficult times as a parent.  My oldest son has had some
troubles and his dad and I have done all we can to help him.  Nights and
days spent wondering what we can do, what have we done, what will
become?  Prayers and trying to let go and let God but keeping a tight
grip on the reigns..my Father let me do this.  It is a process I had to
go through because morning is going to eventually dawn.  Crystal clear,
I saw the prodigal's father in his own fields, day after day, wondering
what would become of his son.  He didn't race after the boy and try to
get him to get a good job or save his money or mend his ways.  He stayed
home and worked the fields and I bet prayed a fair amount.

The most sobering revelation was that between verses twelve and twenty,
that poor dad had no clue that the story would end happily.  How many
days and tears are there in those seven verses for the father?  How many
nights wondering if his son was alive or dead and wondering if tomorrow
when he searched the horizon would finally be the day he had his prayers
answered?  It had to be a very painful time.  In fact, I know it was.

My prodigal lives not far from here, I don't have to search the horizon
for him.  It isn't his physical whereabouts that are astray, it is his
life in general.  I can take what has been shared with me today and use
it.  I can stop nagging and trying to figure out his solutions but that
doesn't mean I will have the final results magically given to me.  No
crystal ball, no flipping to the end of the book to check it out.  I am
between verses twelve and twenty and it is not a nice place to be.  No
more trying to tell him what he needs to do, no more trying to make him
see the light.  No more advice and no more enabling.  A grand
celebration when he returns, if that is what is in store, but I just.
don't. know.  For me, that is the hardest part of the parable, so
masterfully crafted within the tale.

God works in mysterious ways, I know it is cliche but that doesn't make
it any less true.  When I had been zinged by my own personal revelation
and had time to contemplate it, I went back and read the prayer I had
written to share this morning and was amazed.

Turns out, I didn't need to sweat it because I wasn't the One writing
it.

******
Lord, what a powerful and magnificent wisdom You possess.  Through Your
word You give us each exactly what we need.  Some of us You blast with
trumpets and horns while others You caress with a gentle breeze.  As our
perfect Father, You know us as individuals and love us in a way we can
barely understand.  With hearts full of gladness and humble thanks, we
praise Your holy presence here with us this morning.  In Jesus name we
pray, Amen.
******


Maria